


il mio ragazzo falso

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi comes out, Alcohol, Bokuto is a pal, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Drama, Jess is burning in BokuAka hell, Karaoke, Kissing, Konoha needs a firehose, M/M, Mild Tourism, Sappy ass songs, Slow Dancing, Vomiting, Wall Kisses, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3933280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety.</p><p>At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15. </p><p>And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain? </p><p>#someonepleasesaveakaashi</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. all'inizio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [renaissance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Isy/memorde and her love of fake dating. I've had this idea stuck in my head since she mentioned this and I had to make it happen for Reasons.

Akaashi stared at his mother, Gina, with a carefully-cultivated lack of expression. However, his facial expression had very little in common with the volcano of dread about to explode inside his gut. Up until that moment, the idea of his grandparents’ anniversary party hadn’t frightened him at all; in fact, he had looked forward to seeing Nona Alessandra.

But the instruction of ‘bring your girlfriend’ made him want to change his name and leave the country. He had been subjected to his nosy relatives’ attempts at matchmaking during various family functions since he was twelve, and it got more embarrassing every time.

“Mom, I think we need to talk about something,” Akaashi started warily, watching intently for any sign of suspicion or disgust. When he found nothing but curiosity, he added, “And you might want to sit down for this.”

Guiding his mother to the kotatsu, Akaashi fluffed up one of the floor cushions and offered it before sitting cross-legged facing her. This was a conversation he had planned in his head for the past two years, ever since he had counted himself definitively certain of his sexuality, but the idea of saying out loud was a far different form of reality than self-clarity.

“Um, this is really difficult to say and will probably shock you, so please let me finish before saying anything. Okay?” When Gina nodded, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He reached out and covered one of her hands with his slightly larger one and said, “Mom, I like girls fine, but I don’t have or want a girlfriend because I like boys.”

Gina’s brow scrunched as she chewed her bottom lip. After a solid minute of silence that made Akaashi want to set himself on fire, she asked hesitantly, “Are you saying you don’t want to date anyone because you want to hang out with your friends, or are you saying that you don’t want to date girls because you’d rather date a guy?”

Akaashi blinked rapidly, unsure how he had erred in his admission. He had avoided using the ‘g’ word because he wasn’t sure how she — or the rest of his family, for that matter — felt about the issue. However, that left a question he had not planned on answering. It wasn’t even that he didn’t know the answer; he just didn’t know what to say to her. Or to anyone.

“I’m gay, mother,” he finally said, opting for bluntness rather than obfuscation. “I can’t bring a girlfriend to Ojiisan’s and Nona’s party because I don’t and won’t ever have one. If I bring a date, that person will most likely be a male I am sexually and romantically attracted to. Please let me know if this is a problem so I can adjust my RSVP accordingly.”

It was Gina’s turn to gape at her son. Akaashi felt oddly light after getting all of that out at once, but the prolonged attention and lack of response made him wish he could rewind the conversation and bribe a girl from school to be his fake girlfriend for an evening. Ten-thousand yen and doing someone else’s homework for a month probably could have adequately bought him out of this situation, but that was all moot now.

“Please, say something,” Akaashi murmured, looking pointedly away from his mother’s face. He wasn’t sure he could deal with any further explanation or, worse, the possibility of her disgust.

He really wasn’t expecting a smack to the side of his head. Jerking his gaze back towards Gina, Akaashi was not sure how to interpret her lazy half-smile. “Boys are so stupid sometimes,” she sighed before swatting Akaashi again. “I expected you to know better than that, Keiji.”

“Ossu,” he muttered before hugging his knees. He was pretty sure he wanted to melt through the floorboards and into the earth’s molten core. The thing he had feared the most was rejection, yet he was fairly certain at that moment that it would have been preferable to this strange derision.

But Gina’s hands tugged his chin upwards so he could see her . . . grin? “So, who’s the lucky guy, then?”

Akaashi could almost see black spots from the breath lodged in his chest that he hadn’t been aware of holding until right then. Exhaling heavily and with immeasurable relief, he said, “No one, Mom. I’m just waiting for the right one before I out myself at school.”

Gina nodded at this. “That’s probably best. High school can be rough for people who are different. Does anyone on the team know?”

Shaking his head, Akaashi replied, “No. I don’t want them feeling weird changing around me. I don’t think they would, but you never know.”

“How about your friends?”

At this, Akaashi gulped. He didn’t know how to answer without earning some sort of pitying response from his mother. How was he supposed to tell her that the guys on the volleyball team were basically his only friends? It wasn’t that he was disliked at school; inversely, girls flirted with him a lot despite his utter lack of participation in the practice.

If he were to put it simply, he hung around only with his teammates because they never pressured him into their discussions about girls or cars or whatever filthy hentai one of them had stumbled upon recently.

“No,” he answers vaguely. “No one knows except you.”

Gina shook her head at this. “You need to find someone to share your feelings with, Keiji. By all means, be careful about who you pick, but you can’t keep stuff like this to yourself too long or you’ll never be able to tell anyone without giving me the face you just did a few minutes ago.”

Akaashi ducked into his shoulders as his cheeks colored. “I guess that didn’t come out very well, did it?”

Ruffling his hair, Gina chuckled. “Not so much. You were a little direct there at the end, and not direct enough in the beginning. What you need is practice.” Her eyes lit up with an idea Akaashi was sure he wouldn’t like. “We could always road test it on my family.”

Shaking his head, Akaashi said, “No, Mom. No. That is a terrible idea.”

But the sparkle in her eyes couldn’t be stopped. “You could find someone to bring as your boyfriend, and you could practice introducing him until it’s just another casual thing like ‘my shoes are white’ and ‘the sky is blue.’”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. “You do know I have to see them all for the rest of my life, right?”

“Are you planning on staying closeted that long?”

Her words burned away a lot of Akaashi’s resolve. As much as it felt devious to pretend he had a boyfriend around his family, the idea of spending the rest of his life pretending he was straight left a rotten taste in his mouth. It smacked of being the worse lie by far. And she was right; they would find out eventually.

Gina grasped Akaashi’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if you do this and it goes wrong, I will send your regrets to any family function you don’t want to attend without question. You could go the rest of your life without seeing any of them again, and I’ll always support you.”

At this, the idea of finally being out began to take shape as a reality rather than a far-off fantasy. It might have been an utterly mad idea, but Akaashi figured that it had to happen at some point and he had at least one person on his side.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Akaashi said finally with a hesitant smile. “I’ll find someone to bring, and we can just get this over with.” She beamed at him, and her smile only grew wider when he asked, “Does that mean I have to tell Dad?”

“Leave him to me.” Gina shot to her feet and dragged him with her. “Now, don’t you have a boyfriend to shop for?”

 

This was a terrible idea. Awful. Absolutely, undeniably ill-advised. Foolishness.

Akaashi had long run out of words in Japanese for the utter lunacy of this plan he had hatched with his mother, which led him to be suitably impressed by the number of similar words his Japanese-English dictionary turned up. Then again, any language with over a million words had to have a flotilla of words to describe how dumb something was, if only as a form of irony.

In short, he had eyeballed every guy at Fukurodani Academy not on the volleyball team as a prospective boyfriend and had come away with a sense of dread rather than resolve. The truth was that he had attended this school for a year and a half and knew most of the student body by name; that being said, that was about all he knew about his classmates.

The realization began to sink in that he would eventually have to consider asking one of his teammates. They were the ones who knew him the best, about whom he cared the most, and the ones least likely to reject or spurn him.

Practice that day was weird.

He dismissed the idea of asking any of the first or second years. As the vice-captain, he could not ask any of them to do him a favor like this when he outranked them on the team. It seemed like an abuse of his status. That left the third years.

Sarukui-san was a decent possibility, as he seemed to have a smile pasted on his face no matter what he did. Konoha-san was out mainly due to his utter lack of ability to take things seriously outside of volleyball. Washio-san would be a last ditch effort because he just looked angry all the time and didn’t seem like faking being in love with Akaashi would change that. Komi-san wasn’t a terrible option, as his boisterous nature would probably attract the Italian half of his family and earn him a place in their hearts. They might even ignore Akaashi entirely.

There was also Bokuto-san. If Akaashi had to assign the title of best friend to anyone, it would be his moody ace and team captain. He could not imagine Bokuto being the type of person to judge him based on his sexuality, but one could never know when it came to being around a guy who has seen one naked more than once.

But this was the relationship he worried about ruining the most. Not only did the team rely on a steady camaraderie between its captains, Akaashi could not imagine a day without seeing Bokuto smiling at him, begging him for extra practice, inquiring after his day, asking for calculus help. Always something. Bokuto always seemed excited to see him, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, Akaashi felt the same (if in a less animated fashion).

Which was exactly why Bokuto should have been the last person Akaashi asked. And it was, of course, the reason why he was tucking a typed note into Bokuto’s shoe locker the next day, asking to meet him in the park twenty minutes after practice was scheduled to end. No signature, no handwriting to give him away. Just a vague hope that Bokuto might actually consider not taking an extra two hours of spiking practice for once.

Washio actually noticed the plain white paper before Bokuto did. Plucking it out of the crevice it had occupied, he unfolded it and said, “Oi, Bokuto! You got another one.”

Akaashi tensed beside Bokuto, who was obliviously playing Words With Friends on his phone while walking. “Huh?” Bokuto asked without looking up.

Waving the paper in the narrow passage between Bokuto’s face and his phone screen, Washio grumbled, “A confession, genius.” He looked at the letter again. “Not a very heartfelt one, really. Kind of generic.”

Konoha scrambled out of the gym and snatched it. “Ooh, Bokuto’s got a _girl_ friend.”

Sarukui snorted before yanking the paper out of Konoha’s grasp. “Which is four-thousand percent none of your business, dumbass.” He folded the paper without reading it and put it in the breast pocket of Bokuto’s school blazer. “For your consideration.”

Bokuto finally looked up from his game to see Akaashi cringing while looking on at Washio and Konoha play-fighting over who got more confessions that year. Shaking his head, he laughed his boisterous, golden laugh, which put Akaashi at ease for the first time since this debacle had started.

“None have yet won the heart of the totally awesome Bokuto-san,” he said, jabbing a thumb at his chest. “But I will entertain any and all contestants equally.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “That’s just silly, Bokuto-san. Wouldn’t you favor someone you know well over someone you don’t?”

Shrugging, Bokuto replied, “Isn’t a stranger a new friend you haven’t made yet?” He patted Akaashi on the back with a little more force than strictly necessary and added, “You’d be happier guy if you tried it, Akaashi.”

It was all Akaashi could do to not chortle at the joke to which he was uniquely qualified to understand the punch line. “If you say so, Bokuto-san.”

Practice proceeded as usual, and as they were changing out of their sweat-soaked workout gear, Akaashi ventured to ask, “So, are you going to meet them?”

Bokuto paused while untying his shoes and glanced at Akaashi. “Them?”

Akaashi realized his gaffe and gave a flippant wave that belied his desire to hide in the showers. “Well, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a girl, and not everyone who isn’t a girl has to be a ‘him’, right?”

“Way to make it weird, Akaashi,” Konoha remarked, tossing a towel over Akaashi’s head. “Don’t make him blow a fuse or he’ll chicken out.”

Sarukui smacked Konoha on the back of the head. “Shut your hole, Bakaha. There isn’t anything weird about genderless pronouns, and you make it weird, so help me I will brain you.”

Konoha shot Sarukui a smirk before tugging off his shorts and heading towards the shower. “Just saying that there’s no reason to overthink things here. If Bokuto likes this person, there’s no reason to get bent out of shape over trivialities.”

Akaashi debated the pros and cons of sneaking into the showers to turn Konoha’s water cold, but Washio beat him to it. Dumping the vat of liquid soap over Konoha’s head, the gruff third year grumbled, “Don’t be a tool, Aki.”

Meanwhile, Bokuto watched this entire scene unfold with a frown growing in intensity until Akaashi feared that he might implode. “Bokuto-san, is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said blankly, not tearing his eyes from Konoha’s sudsy sputtering. “I just never thought about it before. I’ve never been confessed to by a guy before. I wonder what it’s like.”

“Does that mean you’re going to go?” Akaashi refused to get his hopes up, but his stomach did somersaults when Bokuto said, “Yeah, I’ll go.”

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a real confession; Akaashi felt a surge of victory that Bokuto would even entertain the idea of dating a guy. If he could do that, then fake-dating might not be out of the question.

Bokuto and Akaashi left the locker room at the same time and absently headed to the park. Akaashi didn’t think anything was amiss until Bokuto stopped in his tracks and said, “Wait, where are we going?”

Akaashi frowned. “To the park, like the note said.”

“I didn’t get a chance to read it,” Bokuto said with a flush. “I got distracted with all the other stuff going on, and I forgot.” Looking around, Bokuto itched a spot on the back of his neck and mused, “Honestly, I don’t even know what it says. And come to think of it, I don’t remember you reading it, either.”

With a sigh, Akaashi recited the contents of the note verbatim. “It’s because I wrote it, Bokuto-san.”

Brows shooting up in surprise, Bokuto blinked at Akaashi. “Y-you’re confessing to me?”

Groaning, Akaashi said, “It’s not what you think. I have something very important to talk to you about, and I didn’t want other people around when I say it.”

“Okay,” Bokuto said with an enthusiastic nod. “Let’s hear it.”

His courage rapidly dwindling, Akaashi decided that being forthright would probably garner the best results. “I have a secret that I’ve only told my mother, and that wasn’t even a week ago. I’m telling you because I trust you more than anyone else, and I need your help.

“I’m, um, gay, Bokuto-san, and I need a fake boyfriend to come out to my family with so they’ll stop trying to find me girlfriends.”

Bokuto gawked at Akaashi for far too long before waving his hand in front of his own face. “This is real, right? I didn’t run into the net post again and knock myself out, did I?” When Akaashi’s response was to cast his eyes down and look away, Bokuto hurriedly said, “No, no, no, that isn’t what I meant!”

Grumbling, Bokuto said, “What I meant to say was: you really trust me more than anyone else on the planet besides your mom? And you’re cool with the idea of being my boyfriend, even if it’s not for real?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said wearily. “That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Vice-like arms crushed the air out of Akaashi as Bokuto enveloped him in a hug. “I’ll totally be your fake boyfriend, Akaashi! Just tell me what I have to do.”


	2. balliamo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster chapter ahoy!

Planes have never been Akaashi’s favorite mode of travel. However, they became much more of an issue when trapped in a metal tube for eleven hours next to the most fidgety person on the planet.

“Bokuto-san, please calm down,” Akaashi hissed, his voice short from both irritation and discomfort. “The flight attendant is already very cross with you.”

Grumbling, Bokuto rested his fist on his cheek and glared at said flight attendant. “I just wanted to know how many people died on planes every year.”

Akaashi rubbed his temples in an attempt to ward off the black ache bleeding into his vision. “It generally scares people when you talk about plane crashes while on a plane. America’s TSA is very attentive to things like that. There is wi-fi on the flight, Bokuto-san. Look it up on your phone, if you really want to know, and try not to offend anyone else.”

With that, Akaashi pressed the attendant button and asked for another bottle of water. He couldn’t tell if he was becoming queasy because Bokuto was stressing him out, or because his motion sickness medication was wearing off, but it wouldn’t hurt to eliminate at least one of the variables. The bitter pills stuck to the back of his throat, and he gagged on his water until they dislodged and slid down his esophagus.

He nearly jumped when Bokuto’s hand clenched over his. “Are you sure you’re okay, Akaashi? You look pretty pale, and you’re breathing way too hard.”

Akaashi gave Bokuto a weak smile. “I’ll be fine once we get out of this plane. I’m just a bad flier.”

Bokuto held out his small bag of edamame. “Do you think you’d feel better if you ate?”

At the mere sight of food, Akaashi’s stomach lurched. He leaned his head back, panting for air that didn’t taste like vomit. In a few seconds, he knew he would throw up, but Bokuto had already pulled out the air sickness bag from the seat pouch in front of them and had it ready. A combination of not eating since Tokyo and sour-tasting medication left a pungent, unpleasant taste in his mouth after he retched whatever had been left in his stomach.

Though he didn’t know where it came from, Bokuto handed him a half-empty bottle of water and another pill to replace the one he’d just puked back up. Once he was re-medicated and out of things for his body to reject, Akaashi huddled in his seat and murmured, “Thank you.”

The arm rest separating their seats rose, and Akaashi was blearily aware of his seat belt being unfastened. Warm arms wrapped around his torso and hefted him against Bokuto’s chest, and a blanket draped over him as they both eased into a pile on the combined length of their two seats. The sunlight streaming in through the round windows abruptly stopped when the plastic shade was slid down. Akaashi could barely quantify his relief.

“Just take it easy for a while,” Bokuto said softly. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

Something clenched inside of Akaashi’s chest at the words. “But won’t you get twitchy being stuck like this?” he wheezed.

A small chuckle rumbled in Bokuto’s chest. “I’ll be fine. If I can survive a school day, I think I can sit still for my best friend for a few hours.”

“Th-thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s hand slid through Akaashi’s hair as he readjusted their position, almost immediately relieving the pinching sensation at the base of Akaashi’s neck. “You’re welcome. And you should probably try to call me Koutarou while we’re there. Americans don’t really do the whole family name thing, I don’t think.” He perked up as if in profound realization. “That means I can call you _Keiji_.”

Akaashi was sure it was a cocktail of illness and recycled air that made his head swim at the sound of his given name on Bokuto’s lips. He tried to smile in response, but all he could do was nestle further into Bokuto’s warmth and give it a try.

“Koutarou . . .” he sighed before succumbing to sleep.

When a gentle hand on his shoulder shook him awake, Akaashi woozily looked around to see a flurry of people returning to their seats. The windows were all dark — not from the blinds being shut, but from the star-strewn sky peeking in through the still-open ones. “Are we landing?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said as he helped guide Akaashi back to a seated position. “I really didn’t want to wake you up, but the angry flight attendant lady gave me that look Coach gives me when he’s about to give me laps.” Bokuto cringed. “Sorry. We should land in San Francisco in about fifteen minutes.” With an apologetic smile, he held out another pill and more water for Akaashi, who took it gratefully.

The descent and landing were made slightly less miserable for Akaashi due to his lengthy nap and Bokuto’s hand firmly planted over his clenched fist. To distract himself from the unruly parade marching through his stomach, Akaashi busied himself by softly reciting the list of common English and Italian greetings he had made Bokuto memorize.

It surprised Akaashi when Bokuto began answering his recitations, though very poorly pronounced, correctly. “Welcome to San Francisco, Keiji!” Bokuto said in heavily accented English.

“Thank you, Koutarou,” Akaashi replied, his accent far more practiced after a half-dozen similar trips. “What would you like to see?”

“Baseball!” Bokuto cried as they flew over a lit baseball stadium. “Can we go there?” he asked, lapsing back into Japanese.

Akaashi made a mental note to ask his parents if attending a baseball game would be out of the question, especially since he had already pled his case to get them to book a tour of Alcatraz. He recalled that the local team had won a championship the year before so would probably be fun to watch. In English once again, he replied, “I will ask my parents.”

“ _Grassy_ ,” Bokuto said, his tongue tripping over the wildly different Italian alphabet.

“ _Grazie_ ,” Akaashi corrected.

Bokuto stuck out his tongue. “Italian is hard. At least I know _some_ English.”

“Then we speak English around Nona’s family,” Akaashi said as clearly as he could before repeating himself in Japanese. “Ojii-san’s side of the family will speak Japanese, so if you need help and we get separated, they will help you out.”

Considering his words, Bokuto said haltingly, “Who meets us at the airplane?”

“Airport,” Akaashi amended before answering, “Nona Alessandra and Ojii-san will meet us at the entrance and drive us to our hotel.”

The plane landed, and they were ushered through customs at an unreasonably slow pace. However, Akaashi didn’t mind because his feet were solidly on ground that didn’t make him want to vomit. Bokuto did not seem to be bothered by the wait as he looked around at the guts of the airport. Akaashi thought it looked like every other airport: too many shops and coffee stands. He did not say as much to Bokuto, who was out of Japan for the first time.

After all, everything was bigger in America. Including Bokuto’s saucer-like eyes.

Once they finally cleared customs and made it to the baggage claim, Akaashi kept a lookout for their luggage while his parents waited for their ride. It was right after Bokuto plucked Akaashi’s suitcase off the carousel that Akaashi heard a squeal from his mother that was echoed from far across the room. Both Bokuto and Akaashi looked up to see Gina bustling across the tile to fling herself into the arms of a woman who, despite her salt and pepper hair, looked just like her daughter.

“Mama!” Gina cried.

“ _Mia principessa_ _!”_ Alessandra answered over her daughter’s shoulder. “How are you, my darling?”

As Gina and Alessandra launched into a rapid fire conversation in Italian, only half of which he could understand, Akaashi’s grandfather, Nori, approached the rest of them with a mellow nod and a kindly smile.

First, Nori greeted Akaashi’s father, Hideki, and then his older brother, Daisuke. When he turned his attention to Akaashi and Bokuto, his wispy brows shot up. “Do I have an extra grandson, Hideki-kun?”

Akaashi blushed as Bokuto grinned and bowed. “Bokuto Koutarou, sir. Pardon the intrusion.”

Following suit, Akaashi also bowed before tentatively meeting his grandfather’s gaze. It was now or never. “Ojii-san, this is my boyfriend.”

Nori looked both Akaashi and Bokuto up and down for a full, silent minute before he asked Bokuto, “How was Keiji-chan’s flight?”

Bokuto frowned. “He got sick. I don’t think he took enough medicine.”

“And what did you do, Bokuto-kun?”

Akaashi could feel his face flame. The idea of confessing that he was gay to his grandfather somehow felt less personal than admitting that he had slept sprawled out on Bokuto for over half the trip. “He made me comfortable so I could sleep the rest of the flight,” Akaashi offered for a grateful-looking Bokuto. He reached out and latched his hand with Bokuto’s, giving it a slight squeeze. “It was sweet of Koutarou to do that.”

At this, Nori’s face split into a wide grin. “You must be a good boy, Bokuto-kun,” he declared before shaking Bokuto’s spare hand. “Now maybe my well-meaning wife can stop trying to pair him off.”

“I don’t plan on losing him,” Bokuto said with a bob of his head. “He understands me more than anyone else I know. It’s hard to find someone like that.”

Akaashi wanted to squirm as he listened to Bokuto extol his virtues to Nori, but the nod of approval and the hearty slap on Bokuto’s shoulder made his eyes widen. That had been . . . easy. He had figured that his seventy-two year old grandfather would be more hesitant to accept a gay grandson, but all Akaashi could do at this point was chalk it up to the entire day being full of surprises.

Finally, Alessandra and Gina migrated over to where the guys were amassed, and Alessandra made rounds giving each one of them a bone-crushing hug. Hideki’s years of practice with this showed as he only gasped at his mother-in-law’s embrace. Daisuke was not so lucky; his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Akaashi steeled himself for the onslaught and bit his lip to keep from coughing up his battered lungs.

Bokuto managed to awe him once more as he opened his arms wide and said in very bad Italian, “Nona Alessandra, you are too gorgeous for us dudes!”

They gave one another a startlingly tight hug while she interrogated Bokuto in equally poor Japanese. How long had they known each other? What was their first kiss like? Was the sex good?

At this, Gina hissed in Italian, “Mama! They’re babies! They don’t have sex.”

Alessandra merely rolled her eyes. “Gina, darling, they’re teenage boys. It’s all that’s on the brain.”

Akaashi’s face turned beet red, while Bokuto’s merely scrunched up in confusion. “What are they saying?” he whispered.

“You . . . don’t want to know.”

Daisuke nudged Akaashi’s side and muttered, “Better you than me, Keiji. I don’t think I could lie to her face.”

“Don’t stay quiet on my account,” Akaashi replied, wanting to punch his brother for enjoying his discomfort a little too much. “I’m sure Nona would _love_ to hear about Ayume.”

“Have mercy on me, nii-chan. I haven’t asked her to marry me _yet_.”

Akaashi gave a low chuckle. “Then don’t screw this up for me, onii-san. I _will_ strike you down.”

Bokuto gave them an odd look. “I thought having brothers was supposed to be fun.”

Daisuke’s lips twitched into a sly grin. “Oh, it’s the best sort of fun. Especially when you —” He grabbed Akaashi by the neck and roughly mussed his hair. “— are the big brother.”

Much to Akaashi’s relief, the exchange between Gina and Alessandra ended, and they all toted their bags toward the parking structure. Akaashi took this time to ask his father about attending a baseball game, and he agreed if tickets weren’t too hard to come by.

At the hotel, Akaashi opted to sleep rather than go out for dinner. He still didn't feel well, and he wasn't sure how well unfamiliar food would settle in his unstable belly. Bokuto frowned deeply and almost refused to leave without him, but after the shudder-worthy conversation at the baggage claim, Gina was less inclined to leave the two of them alone. Akaashi gave her an odd look, considering her knowledge of the arrangement between him and Bokuto, but he also didn't want Bokuto to miss out on exploring one of the most culturally rich cities in the West.

Akaashi didn't reawaken until well into the night. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 2:38, and the only sounds in the room were the light wheeze coming from Daisuke and the gentle hum of traffic outside. Bokuto was sleeping face-down on a foldaway bed At Akaashi's feet, while Daisuke occupied the other bed in the room.

Bokuto must have showered when they returned from dinner, as his hair was in a rare flat form as it brushed against the pile of pillows. Akaashi had an odd urge to run his fingers through it and see if it was as soft as it looked, but he shunted that thought harshly aside as inappropriate and settled on pulling out his phone. He had one text alert, and it was from Bokuto.

_We brought you back a salad. It's in the little refrigerator near the window._

At the thought of food, Akaashi's stomach protested its lack of sustenance and Akaashi made a beeline for this mini-fridge. It was easily the largest salad he had ever seen, but he felt hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Not wanting to wake either his brother or Bokuto, Akaashi took the chair from the small desk in the room and put it in the bathroom.

He finished quickly and skulked back to bed. Once he was under the covers, Akaashi heard a quiet murmur. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Akaashi whispered. "Just got hungry. Thank you for the salad."

"I didn't think you'd want a cheeseburger."

Akaashi wished that they were alone in the room. There was so much he wanted to say now that he was wide awake. It was nearly three, and he didn't anticipate going back to sleep anytime soon. What he really wanted was for them to be alone, but the constant buzz of Daisuke's snoring reminded him that they weren't expected to pretend to date around Akaashi's parents and brother.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Bokuto interjected through Akaashi's thoughts. "It feels weird being up this early, but it's already way past noon in Tokyo."

"Sure."

Once again, Akaashi peeled himself out of bed, careful to be quiet and not disturb his brother. His suitcase was exactly where and how he left it, so he blindly pulled on jeans and a hoodie. With a glance, he saw that Bokuto was also dressed similarly as he waved the key card for the room.

Grabbing his wallet and phone just in case, Akaashi followed Bokuto out of the room and down to the hotel lobby. The outside air was cool for August, but it meshed nicely with the shallow breeze flowing through the street.

Bokuto took a deep breath and sighed. "The sea air smells amazing."

Lips twitching, Akaashi remarked, "You've smelled sea air before, Bokuto-san. It's the same ocean as back home."

Shrugging, Bokuto gave Akaashi a lazy half-smile and said, "It's not the same, though, is it? It just doesn't smell like saltwater. It smells like something  _new_ , you know? Something different."

Akaashi gave Bokuto a questioning look. "I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing anymore."

"Depends on what you mean," Bokuto said with a frown. "If you want to talk about, um, other things, we could do that."

Shaking his head, Akaashi replied, "I kind of like seeing you this excited about something new. The last time I saw you this genuinely happy is when you finally noticed how much Hinata-kun hero-worshipped you at camp."

Bokuto laughed. "I  _am_  happy. I get to spend a whole four days with you, and this city is awesome!"

Akaashi couldn't help but smile at Bokuto's enthusiasm, but it reminded him of why they were really there. "Bokuto-san, are you still, um, comfortable around me?"

Blinking at the question, Bokuto asked, "What? I don't — why wouldn't I be?"

Coloring, Akaashi said, "It's usually hard for straight guys to have gay friends. And I really had no right to ask you to do this for me, but I didn't know who else to ask."

"Akaashi, stop." They abruptly halted their stroll on the quiet street as Akaashi turned to look at Bokuto's no-longer-smiling face. He had seen this expression before, and it usually meant that Bokuto wanted something and wouldn't stop until he got it.

"Do you know what it meant to me when you said you trusted me? When you told me something about yourself no one else knew?"

Regarding Bokuto carefully, Akaashi tried and failed to dissect that sentence. "What did it mean, Bokuto-san?"

Bokuto grasped one of Akaashi's hands and examined the fingers one by one as if the question had not been asked. "Your hands are amazing, you know? The way you play is so graceful. You even text like an artist."

Akaashi gawked at Bokuto as his face turned a deep shade of scarlet. "You shouldn't say such things, Bokuto-san."

"I thought we were going to drop the formalities while we're here, Keiji."

At this, Akaashi's heart hammered. "I — I'm just not used to it, K-Koutarou."

Grinning, Bokuto swung their clasped hands between them. "That's better. Now, where was I . . . yes!" He squeezed Akaashi's hand. "Have I ever told you that I really admire how you keep me grounded?"

When Akaashi didn't answer, Bokuto continued. "You make me a better player and a better thinker, and I've never known how to return that favor. And on top of that, you feel the same way I do about you enough to tell me about yourself. There was no way I would ever say no."

"I don't know what to say," Akaashi said, his voice sounding feeble and stupid to his own ears. "Thank you."

Bokuto leaned in and bumped shoulders with Akaashi. "Any time. Just say the word."

So they took a stroll around the block, and if either of them found the fact that they were still holding hands odd at all, neither mentioned it. Instead, Akaashi took the time to absorb the different smells and sights and feelings as he lazily walked beside Bokuto. They were both quiet, but Akaashi did not feel the need to disturb the peace.

By the time they meandered back to the hotel, it was almost five and the sun was already starting to spill onto the horizon. An idea occurred to Akaashi. "Come on. Let's go to the roof. You have to see this."

Perking up, Bokuto followed Akaashi to the elevators and rode to the top floor. As they had stayed in this particular hotel before, Akaashi recalled another restless bout of exploration and found a maintenance stairway that led to the roof. From the top of this very tall hotel, even being a couple of miles away from the oceanside, afforded a decent view of the bay. He just hoped that the sun would cooperate.

There were a few folding chairs collected around a bucket full of cigarette butts, and Akaashi snagged two and sat them near the ledge facing the water. They sat with their shoulders squished together as the sky turned electric blue and then into a warm yellow gradient of illumination.

Just as Akaashi had hoped, the choppy waters of the bay glittered in the light of the brand new day. When Bokuto inhaled sharply, Akaashi knew that they were watching the same thing.

"It's almost the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Neither of them spoke again as they watched the city come alive below. Akaashi wondered how many humblingly beautiful things he had seen in Tokyo that escaped his notice that would make newcomers stare in awe like they were at that moment. He supposed the sakura trees were nice enough, but limbs heavy with their blooms were common even in the heart of the city.

It wasn't until the sun was fully risen that they returned the chairs and went back to their room. Daisuke was in the shower, and they both took that time to find proper clothes for the day.

The whole family met downstairs for breakfast, which was a novel experience to Bokuto. Akaashi watched in half amusement and half disgust as Bokuto ate one of everything in the continental breakfast buffet. Except the waffles; he had four of those, plus almost a liter of orange juice.

From there, they took a shuttle to the train station and to the pier. Armed with a double dose of motion sickness medication, Akaashi looked forward to watching Bokuto realize that they were going to tour the infamous Alcatraz as they boarded a ferry.

Bokuto’s excitement did not disappoint, and neither did the pair of tickets presented to them during the ferry trip for a Giants game, which would start an hour after they returned from the island — courtesy of Nori’s season tickets. It sent Bokuto into the tour on a high, and he was buzzing the entire time. The old prison made Akaashi’s skin crawl, but he swallowed it in favor of helping Bokuto ask his questions for the tour guide in English.

When the ferry docked, Akaashi and Bokuto parted ways with his parents and brother, who were headed to a vineyard for wine-tasting while the boys were at the game.

After picking up ice creams, they walked to the ballpark, while Akaashi listened to Bokuto gush about Alcatraz. He doubted Bokuto had understood more than about half of what their tour guide had said, but it was enough to enthrall him until he set eyes on the ball park.

After a gripping home team victory, they left the stadium full of junk food and very light in pocket after a binge trip to the fan shop. Bokuto had exploded in excitement after seeing that the home team’s left fielder was an alum of Bokuto’s favorite Japanese team — his favorite player, no less. Akaashi was more than happy to spend far too much money on a t-shirt with the guy’s name and number on it so Bokuto could crow over them matching.

The boys returned to the train stop where they had arrived for the tour and harassed the soda machine while they waited, until they were overly caffeinated and out of small change. Akaashi made a mental note to find out where in Tokyo Mountain Dew was sold and make sure Bokuto never went there.

The rest of the Akaashi clan met them at the train stop about a half hour later, all wobbling in their seats while Akaashi called the hotel and asked for a shuttle pick-up after they exited the train. Gina was talking at length about something, but her babbling mix of Japanese and Italian made it impossible for him to understand any of it.

All of them headed straight to bed once they arrived in the hotel. Bokuto valiantly tried to stay up and watch television, but he made it about fifteen minutes into a late night comedy show before falling asleep in Akaashi’s bed.

With an indulgent smile, Akaashi tugged the covers over the soundly sleeping Bokuto and nestled in beside him. It wasn’t the first time he had slept next to Bokuto, but it was the closest he had been to actually touching. So he scooted as close to the edge on the other side as he could without falling off and did not take long to drift off himself.

Akaashi was jarred awake a few hours later when warm arms latched around his middle and the person belonging to these arms buried his face in Akaashi’s chest. He had little success in prying himself from Bokuto’s grasp, and it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he thought it would be, so he sighed and threw an arm over Bokuto and waited for sleep to overtake him once again.

If Bokuto thought it strange when he woke up with his limbs tangled around Akaashi, he made no indication of it.  Daisuke was still sleeping off the tail end of his wine-soaked evening, so there was no audience for their rather embarrassing pose.

After breakfast, Nori and Alessandra arrived in their obscenely large SUV and hauled them all to their suburban home. Some of the rest of their family had already begun to arrive, and a hearty blend of the Rossini and Minemori tribes were already mingling. The anniversary party was not until later that night, but if he remembered his relatives and their allergy to good behavior, they would all be drunk way before then and up to some form of shenanigans or another.

Akaashi looked forward to watching the carnage greatly.

Though he would not admit it aloud, this was the primary reason he agreed to his mother’s idea for coming out. There was an excellent chance that if anything did go awry, most of them would be too drunk to remember. Either that or some cataclysmic argument would overshadow almost non-issue of a teenage boy’s sexuality.

Upon seeing Gina, Akaashi’s uncle Hiro hugged his sister like a boa constrictor, and several cries of greeting came from Alessandra’s nieces  soon after. Akaashi ignored them (they’d be at it for hours) and tugged an already overwhelmed Bokuto to a small cluster of people close to their age. The youngest was his second-cousin-twice-removed Alex, who was very American and very bored while poking his phone. The oldest was Hiro’s nineteen-year-old daughter, Rei, who Akaashi knew best out of all his extended family because they were very close in age.

“Rei-chan, it’s very nice to see you again,” Akaashi greeted in English with a bow. “How is college?”

Rei rubbed her temples and squinted. “Better than here,” she responded in sloppy Japanese.

Bokuto, who was almost bouncing beside Akaashi, gave an awkward wave and said the one word in English he had not managed to mispronounce. “Hi.”

This interjection drew Rei’s attention immediately. She scooted her glasses down her nose just a bit and gave Bokuto a cock-eyed grin. “Hey, cutie.”

Just as Akaashi opened his mouth to explain who Bokuto was, Alex lowered his phone with a huff and said, “Doesn’t play for your team, Rei. He’s with Keiji.”

“Figures,” Rei huffed before pulling out her own phone and plucking away at it.

Frowning, Bokuto turned to Akaashi and muttered, “What’s happening? What are they saying?”

Akaashi chortled. “Rei was trying to hit on you, but Alex told her you’re mine.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Bokuto said with a stiff smile, all the while glancing at Rei like a scared rabbit about to be eaten. “Two down, about twenty more to go.”

“Don’t remind me,” Akaashi grumbled. “Most of the younger ones are from here in the United States, so they’re more likely to be agreeable. It’s the Japanese relatives that are more likely to lecture me on the importance of starting a traditional family.”

Bokuto’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t seem right. Why would they care as long as you’re happy?”

Akaashi couldn’t help but shake his head at the naïveté. “You are so sheltered, Bokuto-san.” He slapped Bokuto on the shoulder. “You’ll see soon enough.”

With that, he introduced Bokuto to the rest of the younger group before flitting to relative to relative, categorized by the ones that he had the least humiliating memories of to the most. Every time he had to change languages, Akaashi worried that Bokuto’s head would explode. His own fared little better, but the little bits of Japanese to Bokuto made his tongue feel less like a lead weight in his mouth.

Thus far, Akaashi was underwhelmed by how much anyone particularly cared who he was dating. His great-aunt Kimiko scoffed at his introduction as Bokuto as his boyfriend, but Akaashi was fairly certain that reaction had something to do with the empty bottle of wine perched on the end table next to her.

However, the hurdle Akaashi had been dreading to jump was the only other person left in the room. His great-grandfather, Takeshi, had refused to speak to Nori for over thirty years for marrying a foreigner.  While the two had reconciled before Akaashi was even born, the time Takeshi had spent disowning his son was overwhelming.

His hand shaking, Akaashi snaked a hand out to take Bokuto’s before he whispered, “This is not going to be pleasant. Be on your very best behavior, and if you get lucky, he might just insult you.”

Bokuto yelped as Akaashi tugged him towards Takeshi. At the moment, he wished he had had the foresight to warn Bokuto at length about his World War II veteran great-grandfather, but it was a moot point as they warily trudged towards the most awkward exchange they would have over this whole weekend by far.

The ninety-five year old Takeshi sat in an armchair, stiff-backed and arms crossed as he stared with an expression of disgust as he looked out over the buzzing room.

Akaashi stood warily in front of him and bowed low. “Sou-sofu, good evening.” With a dart of his hand, he punched Bokuto in the thigh. Bokuto gasped and copied Akaashi’s motion.

“Stand up,” Takeshi rasped, his voice wispy from age but as intimidating as ever to Akaashi. “You brought a friend, Keiji-kun.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Akaashi’s voice abandoned him as he looked between his surly relative and his fake boyfriend. Suddenly, the stupidity of this whole plan multiplied exponentially until he could almost feel his natural flight response ooze out of his ears. He was shaking, and he was sure Takeshi knew it, as well.

Akaashi nearly jumped out of his skin when Bokuto spoke. “Minemori ojii-san, pardon the intrusion!”

“Say that to my son, young man,” Takeshi said with a sneer, and Bokuto visibly shook. “It’s his house.”

“Ossu.”

Takeshi’s eyes narrowed as they raked over Bokuto head to toe. “You’re not one of those Rossinis. Your Japanese is not completely inept. Who are you?”

Akaashi gulped and knew it would be too much to expect for Bokuto to do all this himself. After all, the whole purpose of this was for Akaashi to get comfortable with the idea of coming out. “Sou-sofu, this is Bokuto Koutarou. He is a schoolmate of mine, and he is also my boyfriend.”

Looking at them both for far too long, Takeshi finally broke off with a disgusted grumble. “It’s disgraceful how youths today are wasting their best years with this nonsense. Go find girlfriends. You’re both respectable-looking young men.” Pointing at Bokuto’s hair, his lip curled. “Except that. You look like an imbecile.”

He didn’t have to look to know Bokuto was practically melting beside him. Several responses kicked into motion for Akaashi all at once. First was his natural reflex to manage Bokuto’s spirits, then the simmering outrage at his best friend being talked to like that by anyone. His voice frigid, Akaashi reached out and clenched Bokuto’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“No, sou-sofu, I do not want a girlfriend. Koutarou is my boyfriend, I love him, and we are both fine the way we are.”

Takeshi glared. “You dare —”

“Yes, I do,” Akaashi interrupted. “I’m sorry that you are unable to accept us, but I can’t change myself any more than you can.” He bowed again. “Please let me know when you are able to see past this old prejudice, so I can be proud to be your great-grandson again.”

With that, Akaashi dragged Bokuto out of the now-silent room and into the backyard. Once they were clear of the crowd and out of sight, Akaashi slumped down against the side of the house and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I should have never asked you to do this. I knew he would be like this."

Bokuto sat on the grass next to him and leaned against his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize for something that isn't your fault. I can take care of myself."

"You wouldn't have to if —"

"If I didn't agree to help you with this," Bokuto interrupted. "But I did, and I'll do whatever I need to do. I've been called my names my whole life. What do I care if I get called a few more, as long as I can help someone I care about get through something really hard."

Akaashi raised his crumpled face to look at Bokuto, who was almost like a stranger saying these things. Something warm bloomed in his chest as he forced a watery smile. "When did you get so cool?"

With a smirk, Bokuto said, "I've always been this cool. You were just too busy being cooler than me to notice."

"Thank you, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto punched him in the arm with just enough force to push him onto his side in the grass. "Any time. Now, go back to normal. I'm not used to being the sane one around here."

"That'll be the day," Akaashi teased as he launched himself at Bokuto. They rolled around on the lawn until Akaashi managed to trap Bokuto's arms with his knees as he straddled Bokuto's lap. Both of them were breathing hard as Bokuto looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and Akaashi found himself swallowing hard.

"Bokuto-san?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I do something without it making things weird?"

"'Course you can."

Akaashi felt his mouth go dry as he watched Bokuto lick his bottom lip, something he had done a thousand times without notice while waiting to hit a toss. Yet as Akaashi observed this involuntary action, he found that he couldn't string two words together to save his life. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against Bokuto's.

Bokuto's eyes shot wide open. "What was that for?"

Akaashi’s face reddened as he directed his attention to the ever-fascinating patch of turf right above Bokuto’s right shoulder. "Just felt like it, I guess."

He could feel Bokuto’s gaze boring into him, but Akaashi refused to meet his gaze, even while still awkwardly sitting astride his captain’s thighs. Akaashi was sure that, if he put more than a passing thought into why he had done it, the answer might turn up something he wasn’t ready for. So rather than poke that sleeping bear, he ruffled Bokuto’s hair and hauled them both out of the grass.

“We should go back,” Akaashi said, opting to not discuss what had just happened. “I’m sure I have a long lecture about respecting my elders waiting for me.”

Bokuto shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s your family. He shouldn’t treat you like that.”

“It's fine,” Akaashi answered, focusing conspicuously on his shoes.

A hand stopped Akaashi just as he was about to open the back door. “Stop.”

Not used to hearing the steel of a command in Bokuto’s voice, Akaashi froze with his hand halfway to the doorknob.

“I just thought that it was really cool, you know . . . what you said back there.” Akaashi could almost see Bokuto’s courage deflate, but he pressed on. “You didn’t have to say what you did. I know you were acting, but it was really nice to hear you say that about me.”

 “What, that you’re fine the way you are?” Akaashi frowned, because that had been entirely truthful. He did feel that way.

Bokuto shook his head. “No. When you said you loved me without even hesitating. The only person who’s ever said that to me is my mom.” His face turning scarlet, he planted his face in his palm. “That sounded weird, even to me.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh. “No, it wasn’t weird. I’m just surprised no one’s ever declared themselves in love with you. You’re fun, a star athlete, and pretty good-looking. I figured it would be a regular thing for you.”

With a snort, Bokuto opened the door. “Not so much,” he said as he offered to let Akaashi pass first. “Unless you count a first year saying she loved my hair.”

As they re-entered the main area of the house, Akaashi found that his mood had greatly improved due to his banter with Bokuto. The cagey looks from various relatives didn’t feel so pressing, and the sight of Alessandra bearing down on him was not as frightening as he figured it should’ve been.

“Keiji!” Alessandra hissed in English. “You made him leave!”

Akaashi shrugged. “I didn’t make him do anything, Nona. He _chose_ to treat my boyfriend badly, and _I_ chose not to tolerate it. It’s a free country.”

Alessandra, who nearly matched Akaashi’s height despite her age, merely grinned and pulled him into a robust embrace. “You’re such a good boy. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not.” She punctuated her point with a wet kiss on his cheek.

Resisting the urge to wipe off his face, Akaashi gave his grandmother a crooked smile. “Thanks, Nona.”

At this point, Bokuto excused himself to the restroom, but Akaashi suspected it had something to do with the stares he was receiving. Akaashi began to wish they had stayed outside when he was accosted by his Uncle-Cousin-or-something Leo.

Slapping Akaashi on the shoulder, the tall, rotund man said in Italian, “I don’t know what you said, but you’re the talk of the party now.”

“I know,” Akaashi grumbled. “He told me to find a girlfriend and insulted my boyfriend.”

Leo gave a nod of approval. “Good on you, _bimbo mio_!”

The gathering seemed to be returning to some semblance of normalcy by the time Bokuto returned from his bout of hiding in the bathroom. However, he was just in time to bear witness to Akaashi’s father harshly jerking him into the next room.

“Keiji, that was rude!” Hideki scolded as he tugged at the thin strands of his receding hairline. “Your mother is very upset.”

Akaashi began to tug at his own fingers as he looked away from his dad. “I’m sorry, otou-san,” He took a deep, trembling breath, before looking up and resigning himself to whatever punishment he knew he would have coming, “but there is no place in the world for that sort of prejudice anymore. I don’t deserve it, and neither does Bokuto-san or anyone else.”

“That’s not what this is about!” Hideki sighed heavily. “For a big chunk of your mother’s life, her grandfather didn’t want anything to do with her or her brother. Ojii-san Nori never gave up on his father, even when his wife begged him to.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes, you are your mother’s son a little too much.”

It felt like a balloon popped in Akaashi’s chest. While he had been railing at his unreasonable great-grandfather, his only thoughts had been for Bokuto and himself. The idea that he would upset his mother or grandfather had not even occurred to him. His eyes burned, and he knew he was dangerously close to tears. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

Hideki put an arm around his son’s slumped shoulders. “You’re a good boy, Keiji. You’re strong-willed and loyal, and you get that from your mother, but you are also kind and compassionate towards people who matter to you. If I wish I had given you one thing from myself, it would be for you to think before you speak when it really matters.”

“I’ll try,” Akaashi murmured past the tennis ball that felt like it was crammed into his trachea. “Sorry, Dad.”

“I know you are.” Hideki clapped his shoulder. “I’ll go see if I can talk your mother down.”

Akaashi gave Hideki a ghost of a smile as he left without any indication that he would be expected to return to the party. However, as much as he wished he could hide in this quiet room forever — which he noticed for the first time to be some sort of office — Bokuto did not possess the necessary language skills to fend for himself. If anyone had ever not deserved any of this nonsense, it was the straight guy who agreed to deal with the whole fiasco for no other reason than being a good friend.

This time, Akaashi rejoined the gathering with purpose. He made a beeline for Nori, who was gazing out a window while cradling a drink.

Bowing, Akaashi said truthfully, “I’m sorry I upset you, ojii-san.”

Nori gave a tight smile before sipping his drink. “It doesn’t matter. If it wasn’t this, it would’ve been something else. My father is a difficult man.”

“I should not have been so blunt and quick to anger.”

With a wry laugh, Nori turned to regard Akaashi. “Probably not, but it’s hard to condemn you for the very same ideals that make me love my wife and daughter so much. I will speak to him later, and we will work it out.”

From there, the atmosphere improved greatly as the tension dwindled. More Rossinis piled into the house, directly off a flight from Rome. Akaashi had never met these particular extended family members, but they spoke so quickly and with such a heavy accent that his passable fluency in Italian could not keep up.

The house was becoming very crowded to the point where few rooms were devoid of a handful of people milling around. Akaashi was relieved when it was time to gravitate to the train station and travel to the assembly hall that had been rented out for the anniversary party.

Akaashi stuck to Bokuto like glue because he was very much aware of how the evening would probably go. As with any gala Alessandra had a hand in, it would be filled with booze, food, more booze, loud entertainment, and a liquor-soaked nightcap for anyone old enough to see over a table. Neither of them were of legal drinking age in either Japan or the United States, but the Italian side of his family would consider it a tragedy and a waste if the teenagers present didn’t get at least a glass of champagne to soften the blow of being surrounded by drunk adults.

The party planner’s suit-clad ushers seated them at a long trestle table, which was one of three dominating the dais. Below was a wide expanse with a sound system to the side, and Akaashi had a sinking feeling that it was a dance floor. His reticence worsened when he saw the small monitor at the base of the speaker. “Oh damn.”

Bokuto quirked a brow. “What?”

“Karaoke.”

He didn’t expect a grin as a response. “Awesome! What should we sing?”

Akaashi’s glare was cut off by a voice clearing at the podium in front of the tables. “Bongiornio, konbanwa, and good evening,” Nori spoke, his arm linked with Alessandra’s. “Thank you for coming,” he said in Japanese. Alessandra repeated the greeting in Italian and then English.

For the next half an hour, Akaashi listened absently to the story of his grandparents’ meeting decades ago in three different languages. It wasn’t anything he didn’t know, but he was surprised to see Bokuto tuning in raptly. He could tell when Bokuto could understand what was being said and when he couldn’t by the set of his mouth. When he was lost, his lip would jut to the side, and he would lick his bottom lip when he was concentrating.

By the time the speech was over, Bokuto’s bottom lip was flushed and swollen, and Akaashi knew he was looking at it far longer than he should. Tearing his gaze away, Akaashi glanced over to the karaoke stand, where Gina was the first in line. “Oh, no.”

When the first tray bearing champagne passed, Akaashi snagged one and drank it in one long dreg. Bokuto’s eyes widened. “You’re allowed to drink?”

“Probably,” Akaashi wheezed past the bubbles burning his esophagus. “In an hour, everyone else will be too drunk to care anyway.”

Akaashi’s words proved to be prophetic, and as the night wore on, the open bar and karaoke stand were abused in a terrible sort of synergy. Gina had a respectable singing voice, as did Alex and Leo (much to everyone’s surprise). Bokuto, however, seemed to enjoy the performances and cheered loudly after each one.

Finally, the moment he had been dreading arrived. “Hey, you wanna sing something?”

“Not really,” Akaashi said, knowing he was probably going to lose this battle when Bokuto pulled out his best pout.

“Please?”

After a solid five minutes of begging of the tragically pathetic sort, Akaashi reluctantly agreed to do a duet. After all, as Bokuto had reminded him, they were supposed to be in love and it was something that people in love were supposed to do.

It didn’t take long thumbing through the catalogue to figure out that there were few songs that either of them knew, let alone enough to sing along. By the time they got to the Disney section, Akaashi lost the will to object when Bokuto found what he deemed to be the ‘perfect’ song.

They bickered over who would sing the ‘girl’ part, but eventually Akaashi relented because he doubted Bokuto could hit half of those notes without squeaking due to his decidedly baritone voice. Akaashi’s respectable tenor would have to do.

Bokuto made a show of clearing his throat before giving the DJ a nod to start. Akaashi was sure this would end in disaster, but as he had predicted, most of the partygoers cheered every time a server walked by to take orders for the bar. No one was paying attention to them.

But when Bokuto sang his first few bars, Akaashi realized that this would go nothing like he had predicted.

 _“I can show you the world, shining shimmering splendid. Tell me,_ Keiji —” Leo wolf-whistled in the background. Asshole. _“— now when did you last let your heart decide?_ ”

As Bokuto crooned his way through the next two verses, Akaashi’s heart stuttered in his chest. Bokuto was _good_ , and there was something deeply intimate about how his eyes never left Akaashi’s as he sang. Bokuto hadn’t lied when he said he knew this song.

Akaashi almost missed his cue, but his own lilting voice filtered through the speakers reasonably well as he watched the lyrics monitor out of the corner of his eye. Something greedy in him didn’t want this oddly personal moment to end.

The room was very quiet when the song finished, and their reverie was broken by about twenty sets of eyes gaping at the two of them. Akaashi wanted to shrink behind Bokuto, who seemed oblivious to the attention.

The DJ saved the day by turning on some regular music while they sat down. Akaashi’s third glass of champagne was beginning to catch up with him when he sat, his limbs tingling merrily. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

Bokuto shrugged. “It’s fun to do. I figured you were probably a good singer. Everything else about you is pretty; why not your voice?”

Akaashi colored. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

 _Because it makes me want to kiss you again,_ he thought. His hands slapped over his mouth in horror when it registered that that particular thought had not been contained in his head. “Shit.”

However, Bokuto did not comment on it as they sat in silence. Akaashi absently snacked on the little cheese and cracker plates at every table. It helped to settle the woozy feeling creeping up on him.

A half hour of minimal conversation between them passed with Akaashi replaying his gaffe over and over in his mind. His father had asked him to think before he spoke when it mattered. And this mattered very much, because it was Bokuto. His best friend. His fake boyfriend. The boy he very much wanted to kiss ever since that strangeness in the backyard of his grandparents’ house.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Bokuto tugging him out of his seat by the arm. “C’mon! It’s the last song, and you have to dance with me!”

“No, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi protested.

“Koutarou!” Bokuto hissed under his breath.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi corrected, “I really don’t want to dance.”

Bokuto shook his head. “Nope. You have to do this. It’s your grandparents’ wedding song, and everyone else is going to dance. It’ll look weird if we don’t.”

Registering that Bokuto had a valid point, Akaashi allowed himself to be corralled to the dance floor. “Do you even know how to dance?”

“Nope,” Bokuto answered with a grin. “But you don’t learn by not trying.”

Akaashi had a terrible feeling about this, but it would, indeed, look extremely odd for him to dance with anyone else. With that, he decided to settle into a simple dance step that would require little from either of them other than swaying to the beat of the song. He guided Bokuto’s hands to his waist, and Akaashi looped his arms around Bokuto’s neck.

The song was one of the top songs of 1965, the year Nori and Alessandra were married, and even Akaashi had heard it before. The slow, emotive strains of The Righteous Brothers’ _Unchained Melody_ flooded the hall, the mirror ball above them throwing tiny shafts of light around the room. Akaashi thought it was like a whirlwind of stars surrounding them, and it made him feel like he and Bokuto were the only ones there.

Though Akaashi would not have noticed if they had, they managed not to step on each other’s feet as they clung to one another. The song’s rich melody and heavily romantic atmosphere made Akaashi forget to breathe almost to the point of light-headedness that had nothing to do with the bubbly. He wasn’t stupid enough to miss the correlation to his proximity to Bokuto, either.

By the end of the song, Bokuto had buried his face in Akaashi’s neck, his mouth brushing against the curve of his shoulder, and Akaashi’s knees felt like little liquid traitors who didn’t realize that he was practically holding up both of them.

They had stopped moving almost at once, and Bokuto raised his darkening gaze to Akaashi’s. Warm hands left his sides, and Akaashi lamented their loss until those same hands framed his face while Bokuto kissed him fully, deeply, and in front of his entire family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a self insert of my life. Of all these things, the only one I have yet to do is the Alcatraz tour because tickets are always sold out three weeks in advance every time I visit the Bay Area. Also, welcome to my obsessive love of the San Francisco Giants. 
> 
> The player mentioned as Bokuto's favorite actually exists. His name is Aoki Norichika, who played for the Tokyo Yakult Swallows in the Japan Central League, where he kicked much ass until he was signed by a team in the US (Milwaukee), after which he eventually landed in San Francisco. I heavily head-canon Bokuto as a Swallows fan, and as Aoki was the team's best player for many years, Bokuto could have easily grown up hero-worshipping him.
> 
> If you wonder about any of the other random details in the story, don't hesitate to ask. I have buckets of headcanons.


	3. exposto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Much fluff and character moments.

Akaashi's eyes shot wide open as Bokuto's lips parted from his. There was a euphoric smile on Bokuto's face, with his lids lazily drawn closed as he hummed appreciatively. Akaashi had never seen Bokuto look quite so angelic, and he had to fight the urge to cover his eyes against the obscene serenity of it.

"Wh-what was that for?" Akaashi stuttered.

Bokuto slowly opened his eyes before endowing Akaashi with a thousand watt smile. "Just felt like it."

The words were familiar from earlier that day, but the tingling sensation in his belly certainly was not. He wasn't dumb; it was obvious at this point what he was feeling. What he didn't understand was what thoughts were brewing in Bokuto's often mysterious head.

Years of practice in dealing with Bokuto's various mannerisms had not prepared Akaashi for this. Not sure where to even begin, he grabbed Bokuto by the arm and dragged him out of the hall. Somewhere in the background, Rei shouted after them, "Get a room!"

The first available room that wasn't locked was a family restroom, and Akaashi dragged them both inside before locking the door behind them. Torn between smacking Bokuto upside the head and kissing him again, Akaashi settled for pushing his faux boyfriend against the tiled wall and hissed, "What is  _wrong_ with you?"

The iron in Akaashi's voice wiped the smile off of Bokuto's face. He sighed and ground his palms into his eyes. "I really thought I had you figured out, Akaashi. I really did. I'm sorry if I screwed up."

Blinking in surprise, Akaashi tilted his head to the side. "I'm not even going to pretend I know what that means, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto let out a strangled laugh, which dissolved into a loud sniffle. "Of course you don't." He leaned his head back and bit his lip, and Akaashi's stomach tied itself into knots when he saw a tear slip down Bokuto's cheek.

"Bokuto-san, please don't," Akaashi murmured as he rested his forehead on Bokuto's shoulder.

"You still can't do it," Bokuto said softly. "Even when you're just pretending to be my boyfriend, you can't even say my name. That should've told me, but I just wanted it to be true."

Akaashi's brows drew together. "I — what?"

"Never mind," Bokuto said as he raked his fingers through his hair. Dashing the stray moisture off his face, he plastered an overly-wide smile on his face and squeezed Akaashi's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I won't do it again."

With that, Bokuto unlocked the bathroom and left Akaashi very alone and very confused.

They hardly spoke on the ride home, and Akaashi opted to go straight to bed over staying up and finding himself staring at Bokuto's foldaway bed as its occupant aggressively plowed through a giant bag of popcorn while watching some air-headed television show. If Daisuke, who was too drunk to find his pajamas, noticed the tension between them, he made no mention of it before passing out face-first on top of the covers.

Though they were, for all intents and purposes, alone in the room, Akaashi couldn't help but find comfort in his brother's jagged snores. He wouldn't have known what to say if Bokuto lapsed into his old habit of filling silences. Sleep came quickly but was anything but peaceful. Akaashi woke up almost every hour until he gave up on staying asleep when found himself staring at the bedside clock with burning eyes. Looking around, the only activity he could discern was Daisuke's slightly softer wheezing.

Tired of his losing battle with getting rest, Akaashi shucked off his pajamas and pulled on what he had been wearing the day before and slipped out of the room. He wasn't sure where he was going, but after wandering around, he found himself climbing up the stairs to the roof once again. There was a young man, not much older than Akaashi, smoking at the circle of chairs.

"Can I help you with something?" the young man asked. "Guests aren't really supposed to be up here."

His mind bleary and unfocused, Akaashi only understood about half of that. With more effort that it usually took to conjure English from his tongue, he said, "I just want to be alone for a while."

The guy shrugged. "Suit yourself." He held out his cigarette pack. "You smoke?"

Akaashi shook his head before wandering over to the ledge. He leaned and watched the warm lights of the city, with the promise of dawn trickling onto the horizon. The air was just cold enough that Akaashi appreciated his hoodie and the subtle bite of a breeze on his cheeks.

Bokuto kissed him. Akaashi didn't know what to do with that information, and the longer he took to process that information, the more awkward they were around each other. Not once during this whole farce had he considered anything like this happening. But there was something troubling about the way Bokuto had acted in the bathroom at the party, and it ate at Akaashi. He had asked Bokuto directly what was going on and why; the reply was cagey and almost condescending. Neither were things he would ever attribute to Bokuto Koutarou.

And that was blindly ignoring how the entire thing had made Akaashi feel.

Surprise was an understatement, and confusion a given. Perhaps a little morsel of resentment for having the first two foisted on him. There was some guilt mixed in there for that little almost-kiss in the backyard of his grandparents' house, which would have understandably sent Bokuto's sense of boundary into a tailspin. But then there was the song and the dance and how  _angry_  Akaashi had been when Takeshi had insulted Bokuto. A perfect storm, and now Akaashi was caught in the rain with a broken umbrella.

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he had acknowledged the sound of the hotel employee going back inside, which was why Akaashi turned to look when the door opened again. The plea to let him stay there unbothered died on his lips when he saw a mess-haired and ragged-looking Bokuto.

"Hey," Akaashi acknowledged.

"I figured you'd be up here." Bokuto padded over to the ledge and leaned over in a similar pose to Akaashi's earlier stance. "You didn't sleep much."

Akaashi didn't bother asking how Bokuto knew that. "Not really."

"I think I slept maybe an hour," Bokuto admitted before letting loose a loud, animated yawn. "It's hard to sleep when I know I upset you. I'm really sorry, Keiji."

The sound of his given name made Akaashi's belly flutter, coupled with the warmth in his cheeks at the sincerity of the apology. He ventured to guess that this was a subconscious factor in why he had struggled to call Bokuto by his given name; it was intimate and reserved for clandestine rooftop meetings at the crack of dawn. However, this resigned Bokuto was almost as disturbing to the atmosphere between them as the ill-fated kiss at the party.

It was almost a reflex for Akaashi to curb it. "I just want to understand. I'm more upset about that than what happened." He turned towards Bokuto. "Why  _did_  you do it?"

For the second time in eight hours, Bokuto's laugh held no humor and it felt dirty to Akaashi. "You really don't know, do you?" He shook his head. "You are the smartest guy I know, but you are dumber than a box of rocks right now."

Akaashi frowned. "That's not very —"

"I did it because I've wanted to kiss you, like, forever." Bokuto didn't even try to smile. Instead, he winced. "There was this amazing first year setter who could out-toss a third year with ease, and he would always stay after and do extra practice with me. After spending that much time with someone, you get to know them. It didn't take me long to figure out that I liked you more than I was supposed to, but I kept it to myself because that's what you're supposed to do when you're the only one feeling the vibe."

Eyes wide, Akaashi began to shake as Bokuto wrenched out this confession like it was a splinter: quickly and without emotion. One's first confession was supposed to be full of jitters and joy, but Bokuto looked like he was testifying in a trial, spewing out facts instead of feelings. It made Akaashi want to throw up.

"So, is this the part where you tell me you don't see me that way so we can move on?" Bokuto asked, his voice laced with weariness. "Or did I screw that up, too?"

Akaashi was very aware that Bokuto needed him to say something — anything — just to put him out of his misery, but every time he opened his mouth, his jaw just hung stupidly slack. "I don't know," Akaashi replied. It was the only thing he could manage. "I need to think."

Bokuto's head hung low between his outstretched arms. "I should leave you alone."

"No."

They were both surprised by this answer, but Akaashi had a feeling that if Bokuto left right then, the rooftop wasn't the only thing he'd be exiting. He still had no idea what he wanted or felt out of all of this, but one thing he was very sure of was that the idea of Bokuto shutting him out made his chest hurt. It was a mess, and he said as much aloud.

"Yeah," Bokuto sighed, sounding much too small for his large frame. "I thought this thing would be my chance to show you how I felt. Away from school, away from the team."

Akaashi couldn't find fault in that logic. He was more surprised that Bokuto, so solidly in the deepest mode of dejection he had ever seen, was able to articulate himself when Akaashi could only thread together wishy-washy pleas of I Don't Know. He owed Bokuto much more than that.

"You know," Akaashi started, "you were the last person I wanted to ask to do this." When he saw Bokuto shrink into himself even further, Akaashi hurriedly added, "Not because I don't trust you or like you. It was because the relationship we had was the one I didn't want to disrupt. I started out ruling the entire team off limits, but there were few people outside of the guys I knew well enough for this to even work. But when it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone else but you."

Bokuto was very still beside him. "Coming out is scary. Of course you'd want someone you know and trust. That's why I was so —" His voice cracked. "— so glad you asked me that I just didn't . . ."

A loud sniffle shredded Akaashi's armor-like composure. He wrapped his arms around Bokuto's shaking shoulders, and they sagged against each other as they sank to their knees. Akaashi buried his face in Bokuto's neck, biting his lip to keep himself steady. The huddled, shuddering form beneath his fingers was foreign to him, as is someone were wearing Bokuto's body like a suit and playing the role badly.

"I wish I knew what to say," Akaashi murmured into the slope of Bokuto's collarbone. "I don't know how to fix this, Bokuto-san."

Snot dripped onto Akaashi's hoodie, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was what Bokuto said next: "It's okay if you don't love me. Just don't make me stay away."

"Never," Akaashi said with the most certainly he had had all night and morning.

Though neither of them were particularly hungry, they managed to scrape themselves off the flat of the roof and make their way downstairs. Leaning heavily on one another, no one remarked on their disheveled state as the entire family partook in the continental breakfast. Akaashi forced himself to choke down a cinnamon roll and some coffee, but Bokuto just strangled his glass of cranberry juice and didn't look away from its ruby depths.

It wasn't until they were leaving the cafeteria that Gina pulled Akaashi aside and said, "What on earth is going on with you two?"

Akaashi momentarily considered concocting some sort of lie, but after everything that had happened because of their little scheme, he opted for honesty. "I didn't know it when I asked him, but Bokuto-san loves me. In  _that_ way."

Gina grinned at him. “That’s great, Keiji! You were worried about being accepted, but someone was already there waiting for you.” She let out a throaty chuckle. “I was wondering when you’d figure out how he felt about you. It’s kind of obvious.”

“You knew?” Akaashi blinked in surprise at his mother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shaking her head, Gina sighed. “Keiji, amore mio, you are such a smart boy, but you are so dense right now.”

“Not helping, Mom,” Akaashi grumbled. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

Gina squeezed Akaashi’s shoulder. “How do you feel about Bokuto-kun?”

“I . . . don’t know?” Akaashi looked pointedly at his shoes. “How do you know if you love someone if you have no basis of comparison?”

She shrugged. “I guess you just _do_.” Wringing her hands, she added, “It’s an instinct.”

Akaashi absorbed this information and found it to be entirely unsatisfactory. It didn’t explain anything at all. “Then how did you know you loved Dad?”

Blushing, Gina said, “You don’t want to know the details, I assume.” When Akaashi vehemently shook his head, she huffed. “Well, it was when I realized that everything I wanted to do, I wanted to do it with him. Watching bad TV, talking a walk through the park, waking up in the morning; the thought of him being there made it all seem less, well . . . mundane.”

When Akaashi’s face screwed up in a tight frown, Gina chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Just imagine the things you do every day. Then imagine what it would be like with Koutarou-kun there. Imagine kissing him when you walk into a room instead of saying ‘hello.’ Then imagine your day without him.”

“Okay,” Akaashi replied numbly as he walked away. “Thanks, Mom.”

Akaashi nearly ran into three walls as he made his way to the room as he considered his mother’s words. Her explanation had been so simple, so easy, but as he mulled over their implication, Akaashi found them to be anything but.

Bokuto was a constant presence in his life. As they walked to school, their paths intersected halfway and they usually finished the journey together. The two of them spent several lunch periods leading up to important matches in the gym, doing extra spiking practice. During regular practices, Bokuto was the ace and Akaashi was the setter; they spent more time together than anyone on the team.

After school and sometimes on the weekends, Akaashi would help steer Bokuto through his English and Calculus assignments, both to keep Bokuto from drowning in subjects he neither liked nor was good at, as well as to gain some insight into the next year’s course material. They would often be at the other’s house three or four times per week until almost ten at night. The rest of those evenings were spent doing late practices.

His face reddened when he considered the idea of sprinkling physical affection throughout his daily routine. The kiss from the party would not be an all-the-time thing, he was sure, but the casual one in the grass had felt so right at the time, even if it had sent everything into a frenzy. He had liked it then, and his heart sped up as he thought about it now.

This time, Akaashi tried to picture each of these everyday scenarios without his boisterous captain’s presence. Mornings would be silent, lunches peaceful, practices reserved, and evenings alone. Very alone. There was no one to his knowledge that he spent time with more than Bokuto. He saw his ace more than his own family, and it did not feel strange at all.

It would definitely be strange for Bokuto not to be there, and Akaashi didn’t like the idea of it at all.

He stopped mid-stride in the hallway outside the hotel room, mouth slack, and gasped to himself, “Oh.”

The final few steps to their hotel room were finished in an almost-dash. Akaashi practically jammed in his key card before flinging the door open, but the words about to bubble past his lips died in his throat when he only found Daisuke, whose head was buried beneath his pillow.

“Where is he?” Akaashi asked with an edge to his voice.

Daisuke grumbled, “Not so loud, Keiji. My brain feels like it’s on fire.”

“Then don’t get so shit-faced drunk,” Akaashi growled before repeating his original question.

“I think he went out after breakfast.” Daisuke flipped over and hissed at the sunlight trickling in through the blinds. “Ugh. Why am I alive?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes in disgust. “To drink your weight in scotch. Idiot.” He huffed before grabbing a hoodie and his phone. “I’ll be out.”

The failure in his plan became evident when Akaashi stepped outside the building. Swarms of pedestrians blocked his view from either side of the walkway, and cars bustled by, full of people in suits who were a breath away from being late to work. Nowhere in the bustle could he see a sign of absurd black and white hair or its owner.

Looking back and forth, trying to discern which direction he thought Bokuto might take, Akaashi knocked himself on the forehead before pulling out his phone and calling Bokuto’s mobile. It rang for a tense fifteen seconds, one ring short of hitting voicemail, before the line crackled to life with a sullen, “Hey, Akaashi.”

“Where are you?” Akaashi asked without preamble. “You could get lost. Don’t leave me like that.”

Bokuto was silent on the other end for a long while before he said quietly, “I think I’m lost.”

Akaashi’s breath burned in his chest. “Look around. Are you near any shops or bus stops?” Bokuto mentioned some random restaurant, and Akaashi furiously thumbed in the name of the place into Google and said, “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He ended the call and followed the route Google Maps laid out. His shoulders bashed into a few other passers-by, but he neither apologized nor avoided doing so again as he rushed through the maze of people until he spotted the hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean restaurant.

Hugging his bare arms to his torso, Bokuto shook underneath the awning against the chilly morning. Without a second thought, Akaashi tugged off his own hoodie and offered it to Bokuto. “Here.”

Shaking hands took the offering, but Bokuto made no move to put it on. “Sorry you had to come find me.”

“I wanted to talk to you when we left breakfast, but you were already gone.” Akaashi scowled before he began jamming Bokuto’s arms into the hoodie. “I told you not to go anywhere without a hoodie. Especially anywhere this close to the water.”

Every word out of Akaashi’s mouth felt stupid and out of place. He had not expected to lecture Bokuto about proper attire, yet there he was scolding someone older than himself like a child. But Bokuto complied and was engulfed in warm cotton before Akaashi sighed and rested his forehead on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Akaashi could feel the cold seeping into his own limbs from the lack of protection, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was what he had thought about before seeking out Bokuto and what he was about to say.

If he could get anything to come out of his stupid, tongue-tied mouth.

One after another, he considered and rejected various ways of explaining to Bokuto the conclusions he had reached that morning and how they had changed everything. Akaashi could speak three languages in varying degrees of fluency, yet not a single one of them could provide words fruitful enough.

“To hell with it,” Akaashi muttered before yanking Bokuto’s face to his for a messy, blistering kiss.

He could almost taste the surprised sound it elicited from Bokuto, but an even headier flavor was the growl of appreciation as fingers lanced into his hair. They stumbled backwards against the brick edifice of the restaurant, with Bokuto’s taut torso pressing against Akaashi.

New and unfiltered sensations careened into Akaashi’s every nerve. Every square inch of his body touching Bokuto throbbed with it, and he could not even think, let alone remember a time in his life he felt close to bursting under pressure.

Akaashi shivered, both at the chill of the bricks on his back and when Bokuto’s lips trailed down his jaw and his neck. He let out a long, low moan as his eyelids bobbed between open and closed.

His clouded mind vaguely registered several bystanders ogling their borderline lewd display, and Akaashi reluctantly murmured, “People are staring at us.”

“Let ‘em,” Bokuto rumbled, the vibration sending a shock of giddiness through Akaashi’s blood. It made him desperately want to agree with Bokuto.

It wasn’t until Akaashi saw a small child pointing at them, asking his parent in English, “Mommy, what are they doing?”

The mother chirped her irritation before dragging her daughter along after her. Akaashi forced himself to breathe steadily and whispered, “Koutarou, not here.”

The use of Bokuto’s given name was enough to make him freeze. His lips parted from Akaashi’s skin, and the absence was sorely noted. However, they walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel, and for the moment, the curl of a warm hand around his was enough for Akaashi.

This time, Akaashi’s hand was steady when inserting the key card. It was a relief that the room was empty. Almost on cue, Akaashi’s text alert chirped, signaling a message from Daisuke.

_Went out in search of ibuprofen. Will be gone for a few hours._

Akaashi glared at the message and the insinuation that his brother was making, but the chuckle it drew from Bokuto almost made him forget why he was objecting at all. With a shrug, he tossed his phone on the nightstand and put his hands around Bokuto’s waist.

Slowly, inch by inch, he peeled Bokuto’s shirt and hoodie up his torso until they both were eager to shuck both layers. Akaashi’s shirt was practically ripped off of him as Bokuto pushed them both backwards onto the bed.

Their state of undress was no shock for either of them; Akaashi had certainly seen much more of Bokuto’s bare flesh than this. What was new and exhilarating was the surge of Bokuto’s pounding heart under his palms, the ragged breaths against his jaw, the purr of appreciation in his own throat.

Akaashi’s hand stilled Bokuto’s exploration of his collarbone for just a moment as he framed the other boy’s cheeks with his hands.

“Hey, fake-boyfriend,” Bokuto said, his voice rusty with need.

“Hey yourself,” Akaashi answered before meeting Bokuto’s lips with his own for a long, languorous kiss.

After their lips parted, Akaashi tugged Bokuto down beside him on the bed and burrowed beneath his arm. The scent of Bokuto’s musky body wash tickled his nose, and Akaashi was sure he could stand to smell it all day.

They lay there for what seemed like hours before Bokuto broke the silence. “What made you change your mind?”

“My mom,” Akaashi admitted with a chortle. “People always tell you not to ask your mom for love advice, but I figured a lot of stuff out and stopped making it all so complicated.”

Bokuto craned his neck to look at Akaashi, whose face was pressed into his naked chest. “And what did you figure out?”

Akaashi shrugged. “I tried to think about what things would be like without you around all the time. I knew you’d do something stupid and noble like that if I rejected you. The rest was kind of easy from there.”

Humming in appreciation, Bokuto tightened his arms around Akaashi before flinging the comforter over them both. As neither of them had slept particularly well, Akaashi allowed the warmth of the blanket and bare skin to collaborate against his will to stay awake.

 

When Akaashi woke up, Bokuto was still asleep, and the mid-afternoon sun blared into the room. One glance at the alarm clock said it was half past three, and he shot out of bed. He grabbed his phone to verify that his family didn’t think he had fallen off the face of the earth.

The only message, however, was from Daisuke:

_Saw you guys being all cuddly. Gross. I turned off your ringer and told Mom and Dad you guys needed more sleep. Enjoy your spooning while I throw up everything I’ve ever eaten._

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, even if he wanted to punch his brother in the face. They had planned on a tour of the Golden Gate Bridge, which they wouldn’t get to do this trip because they were slated to leave the next morning, but both of them had been exhausted. The only problem was that they were going out to dinner with Nori and Alessandra that evening, and it would be cutting it close for them to get ready in time.

Lightly shaking Bokuto’s shoulder, Akaashi said quietly, “Bokuto-san, you need to get up now.”

Bokuto sleepily swatted at his hand and murmured Akaashi’s name as he rolled over to embrace the still-warm spot under the covers where Akaashi had been. With a whimper, Bokuto’s eyes opened and he frowned. “Was I dreaming all of that?”

Blood rushed to Akaashi’s cheeks as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “We have to leave for dinner in an hour and a half. Do you want the first shower?”

Wagging his brows, Bokuto smirked and said, “You could always just shower with me.”

Akaashi swatted Bokuto’s blanketed thigh. “We’ve only been fake boyfriends for a month and real boyfriends for a day. I think that’s a little much.”

With a laugh, Bokuto threw Akaashi an appreciative glance from head to toe. “You’ve clearly never looked at yourself in a mirror.”

Still red-faced, Akaashi nearly dove into his suitcase to fish out a change of clothing fit for family dinner and escaped to the bathroom. As he stood under the warm stream of water, he wasn’t thinking about how much of that exposed skin Bokuto had actually seen, and he _certainly_ wasn’t contemplating the idea of Bokuto touching any of it.

Just to wake up, he told himself as he turned the water to cold.

When he emerged buttoning his shirt, Bokuto tugged him close for a quick kiss and a slap on the behind before taking over the bathroom. Akaashi wanted to scold Bokuto for being childish, but he could barely keep his fingers from missing the buttonholes as his thoughts drifted to later that night.

Akaashi had barely spoken to anyone after the awkward kiss at the party, so he had no idea what impression it had left on his grandparents. He was not particularly concerned with the rest of the family; they could think what they like. However, Nori and Alessandra were good people who supported him, and he didn’t want them to worry.

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and sighed as he decided what he needed to do. Socks balled up in his hands was how Bokuto found him fifteen minutes later. “Akaashi?”

“I should tell them,” Akaashi replied woodenly. “My grandparents. I should tell them we weren’t really dating.”

Bokuto shrugged. “If you want. I’m okay with it, as long as I can keep on not-fake-dating you.”

Lips twitching into a smile, Akaashi teased, “That doesn’t even make sense. Now get dressed.” He threw his towel at Bokuto, whose hair was still dripping from the shower and formulating little rivulets of moisture down his bare skin before hiding in the towel wrapped around his waist.

When Bokuto caught him staring, Akaashi gulped.

Bokuto laughed as he finished getting ready. Meanwhile, Akaashi texted Daisuke to let him know it was safe to come in again and threw in a thank you. He would owe his brother a favor, he knew that, but it was worth it.

They were soon in a taxi, headed to dinner. Gina complimented the boys on looking sharp while frowning at Daisuke’s rumpled state. Akaashi had offered to iron his shirt while he was in the shower, but he had declined to dissuade the notion that it would constitute cashing in the aforementioned favor so Akaashi had merely shrugged and allowed his brother to suffer.

The restaurant was a lively Italian place in the heart of the city. Nori and Alessandra were waiting for them outside, and while Nori politely accepted their bows of greeting, Alessandra endowed them all with fierce hugs. Akaashi smiled when Bokuto picked up Alessandra and whirled her around, causing chuckles all around.  

“Koutarou, dear, I hope Keiji keeps you forever,” Alessandra said airily as she patted Bokuto’s cheek.

Bokuto leaned in and whispered just loud enough for Akaashi to hear: “So do I, Nona.”

Akaashi reddened while Daisuke snorted beside him. Bokuto never did have too much control of his vocal volume.

They were seated and ordered an array of family-style dishes. The conversation meandered deeply into mundaneness, with Nori asking each of them in turn what courses they were taking in school while grilling Daisuke about how he intended to utilize his upcoming communications degree. Akaashi didn’t have the heart to mention that Daisuke’s chosen field of study was more of a souvenir from his college baseball career. Much to his amusement, Gina had no such compunctions.

All in all, it was a good cap on the trip, and Akaashi was feeling good about his upcoming confession. He decided to address his grandmother alone and leave it up to her whether to share this information with Nori. As they were all filtering outside, Akaashi touched her arm and said, “Nona, can I talk to you?”

Alessandra cocked her head and gave him a disconcerting look. “Of course, Keiji. You can always talk to me.”

For most of his life, Akaashi had never found it difficult to say what he needed or wanted to say, but as he looked at his grandmother’s earnest face, he almost faltered. However, he knew he would not feel right getting on the plane the next day until this was set right.

“I lied to you and ojii-san, Nona,” Akaashi admitted, his head hanging. “When we came here, Bokuto-san and I were not together. I asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend so I could feel better about coming out and . . . and so nobody would badger me about not having a girlfriend anymore.”

His confession was met with silence, and it made his legs shiver with the desire to flee. Akaashi wanted something — anything — to break this stalemate.

And a slap to the side of the head was what he got.

“ _Bambino stupido_!” she cried before smacking him again. “You don’t ever have to lie to me. Do you really think I left my home country when I was twenty years old because I wanted to lie about my feelings?”

Akaashi shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nona. I just did not know how you would feel about it, so I thought if I —” He laughed bitterly. “The more I hear myself talk, the more stupid it sounds.”

“Stupider,” she corrected. “You need to practice your English more outside of school. And your _italiano_ has been pitiful.”

“Yes, Nona.” Akaashi sighed and glanced up at her. “So you’re not angry?”

Alessandra shook her head. “Only that you thought you couldn’t be honest with me, baby. And I’ll forgive you once you tell me what changed.”

More calmly than he thought possible, Akaashi related a filtered version of events (leaving out their cozy little nap from earlier) from the concoction of the plan to the kiss that morning. Alessandra listened, nodded, and helped him when he couldn’t find the right words, until he was finished and more mentally drained than he could remember being in his whole life.

It was a solid, quiet minute after Akaashi finished speaking before Alessandra said anything else. “If you decided you had feelings for Koutarou this morning, then what made you snap at your great-grandfather?”

Chuckling, Akaashi thought about it and shook his head. “Habit, I guess. I have managed Bokuto-san’s moods for so long that I try to keep him from being hurt. He does it enough to himself because that is what he’s like.”

“I am happy for you, Keiji.” Alessandra bowed his head and kissed his brow. “You deserve it, and you are a good boy, but remember this: when you find someone who looks at you the way he does, like you sang the sun to sleep and hung the moon, don’t mess it up. And then maybe, in fifty years, your grandchildren will dance and fall in love at your fiftieth anniversary party, too.”

Akaashi hugged Alessandra tightly. “ _Ti amo, nona_ ,” he said as tears prickled his eyes.

“Your accent is terrible,” she jabbed as she patted his back.

Alessandra stepped back and squeezed his hands. “Take care of that boy. And teach that brother of yours how to dress himself.”

“I will, Nona,” Akaashi replied with a smile. He kissed both her cheeks and bowed. “We’ll see you next year, I hope.”

“As do I.”

They rejoined the rest of the family. Akaashi bowed to Nori, but his grandfather just pulled him into a brisk embrace and said, “It does this old heart good to see you so happy, Keiji. You always seemed lonely before, but Bokuto-kun has done you a lot of good.”

Akaashi diverted his gaze over to Bokuto, who was cracking jokes with Daisuke, and felt warmth filter into his every limb. “He has, Ojii-san. It took me a while to realize it, but he has.”

With many more well-wishes and a tearful goodbye between Alessandra and Gina, the Akaashis headed back to their hotel with the youngest member of their party feeling lighter and more at ease than he had the entire weekend.

 

The plane trip back to Japan was not as miserable and beastly as the journey to San Francisco had been, but Akaashi wouldn’t rule out the idea that curling up in Bokuto’s lap had something to do with that. However, they were all a little wobbly as they stumbled through customs and into baggage claim.

A taxi transported the weary group to Akaashi’s house, but as soon as the familiar streets came into view, he wanted to turn back. Real life would start back up, and with Bokuto immersing himself into volleyball and winning a national championship once again, Akaashi wondered if there would be room for this new, budding thing between them anymore.

They already spent time with each other every single day; would this change, or would what they do with that time change? Akaashi didn’t know, and it irked him that he didn’t.

When they dumped off their luggage in the genkan, Bokuto pulled out his phone to text his mother. Akaashi put a hand over the screen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Bokuto frowned. “But . . . you’re already talking to me.”

Akaashi’s reflex was to fling a verbal barb, but instead, he gave Bokuto a tight smile and explained, “Before you go, I want to talk to you alone.”

Eyes lighting up, Bokuto nodded vigorously. “Yeah!” He kicked off his shoes and bounded up the stairs towards Akaashi’s room. “Last one up is a moldy yakisoba bun!”

Akaashi followed him upstairs and into his room, which looked minuscule in comparison to their spacious hotel room, but Bokuto’s usual larger-than-life presence might have had something to do with that.

“I’m honestly not sure how to say this lightly, but I need to know how this whole not-fake boyfriend thing is going to change our regular friend thing.” Akaashi’s face pinched into a scowl at how strange that sounded to his own ears, and that sensation only deepened when Bokuto scratched his head. “That didn’t come out right.”

Rubbing his chin, Bokuto asked, “Do you want to know if we’re gonna stop being friends? I hope not. I like just hanging out with you. But I also like kissing you. I was just sort of hoping we would keep up the way we were, except more kissing and less scolding me about my shitty English.”

With a snort, Akaashi slapped Bokuto on the upper arm. “I’ll stop scolding you about your shitty English when you can make it through more than one sentence without picking the wrong pronoun.” His hand smoothed over the spot he had playfully struck. “But the rest sounds nice.”

“As long as we can speak Japanese again,” Bokuto said, his face solemn. “I have never had a headache for that long in my life. And everyone talked too fast except your grandmother.”

Shaking his head, Akaashi sighed. “They’re like that no matter what language it is. Nona says it’s an Italian thing.”

Bokuto’s eyes darkened as he snaked hands around Akaashi’s hips and yanked them together. “I like it when it’s you, though.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Akaashi murmured before pulling on Bokuto’s bottom lip with his teeth. Bokuto purred into his mouth, and Akaashi thought to himself: _I could get used to this._

 

The walk to school the next day felt like a trek up Mount Fuji for Akaashi, but when he met up with Bokuto halfway there, he didn’t feel half as tired as his boyfriend looked.

“Why do I feel like I got rolled under a bus?” Bokuto grumbled. “I slept fine, but I feel like my legs are made of lead.”

Akaashi shrugged. “Jetlag is bad when you’re not used to it. It probably didn’t help having me sprawled all over you.”

Bokuto coughed until he was red in the face, and Akaashi smirked. Teasing Bokuto had just become a thousand times more rewarding, and he was mildly ashamed of himself that this was the first instance he had thought of it. “Yeah, it must have been so hard having me breathing on your thighs for hours. Nestled between your legs. I don’t know how you could stand it, to be honest.”

Blanching, Bokuto growled, “Not before practice! I have to wear _shorts_.”

With a downward glance, Akaashi noticed a distinct bulge in the front of Bokuto’s school trousers. “Oh ho ho?”

“Shut up!” Bokuto covered his lap with his hands. “ _You_ didn’t wake up from a dream at three in the morning that would make Buddha need Jesus.”

“And _you_ are not allowed to hang out with Daisuke and his meme fetish anymore,” Akaashi teased. “But seriously? You had that kind of dream about me?”

Bokuto harrumphed. “Why not? I love you, we’re dating, and you’re ultra hot; why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re about five minutes away from walking into a locker room full of your teammates who will not miss a Little Bokuto sighting.” When blood rushed to Bokuto’s cheeks, Akaashi squelched the rush of victory and coaxed, “Now, think of the least sexy thing on the planet. Picture . . . Konoha in your mother’s robe. And your sister’s underwear.”

“Argh!” Bokuto cried as he jammed his hands over his ears. “I’m good, I’m good, now stop talking before I lose my breakfast!”

“You’re welcome.”

Soon, Bokuto’s little problem disappeared and they stood in front of the club room door, but neither moved to open it.

“Should we tell them?” Akaashi wondered out loud, half to himself and half to Bokuto. “They’re not stupid; they will find out. Well, maybe not Konoha, but the rest . . .”

“I think we should,” Bokuto said. “You weren’t too fond of lying to your family, and these guys are _like_ my family. We should just be honest.”

Akaashi nodded. “I think you’re right.” He took Bokuto’s hand in his and squeezed it tight. “But let’s try baby steps. Let’s see if they notice.”

“They will,” Bokuto said dubiously.

“Maybe not.” Akaashi chortled. “Remember how long it took for Washio to notice he had a hole in the ass of his practice shorts?”

Bokuto guffawed loudly. “Man, his boxers were showing for, like, two weeks!”

They both laughed as Akaashi said, “And this is who we choose to spend time with, Koutarou.”

His hand stilling on the doorknob, Bokuto blinked at Akaashi. “You’re finally going to do it, then?”

“Only if it doesn’t summon Little Bokuto.”

“Damn it, Keiji! That’s the _only_ time that’s happened.”

Roughly pushing Bokuto against the doorway, Akaashi murmured, “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Bokuto raked his fingers down Akaashi’s back as he brought their mouths together for a searing kiss. “I never knew —” Akaashi bit his jaw. “— you could be —” Bokuto groaned loudly. — so bad!”

Akaashi’s victorious grin was cut off as the door opened and they landed in a pile in the club room, and several pairs of eyes were glued to their disheveled state and compromising pose.

“Um, hi!” Bokuto said, his voice unnaturally. “What did I miss?”

Sarukui raised a brow. “What did _you_ miss? _I_ wanna know what global cataclysm had to happen for you two dumbasses to figure out you were in love with each other.”

Onaga, who was still holding onto the doorknob, stood with his jaw slack. “Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san were dating and we didn’t know?”

Komi shook his head. “Nah. This is new. At least to them.” Over his shoulder, he called, “Hey, Sarukui, you owe me a thousand yen.”

All Akaashi could do was chuckle as he helped Bokuto up. “Well, I suppose that’s out of the way.”

Washio’s voice boomed across the club room. “One rule: keep the funny business out of the gym and this room. I swear I will sweep this room with a blacklight once a week if I have to.”

“Um, could you not do that?” Konoha said, not meeting the gaze of anyone in the room but the floor. “It might be a, um, pre-existing condition.”

A collective groan rose from everyone else there as they rushed to touch as little of every surface as humanly possible. As they all finished changing at lightning speed and headed for the gym, Sarukui smacked Konoha in the back of the head.

Lingering at the back of the group, Akaashi took Bokuto’s hand and said, “See? That wasn’t too hard at all. I guess practice does help.”

Bokuto laughed loudly. “That was a good one! You’re a hoot, Akaashi!”

Feigning a glare, Akaashi said, “That was terrible, Bokuto-san. You take that back right now.”

“Make me!” Bokuto cried before slapping Akaashi’s bottom and sprinting in the gym.

Knowing he would never catch Bokuto running at full speed, Akaashi bellowed, “Get back here!” before settling for watching Bokuto trip over the halfway-erected net.

Yeah, he was definitely in love with this moron, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's everything! Isy, I hope you liked this little gift for you. Every time you post a story, it feels like it's a gift because I literally did not know there was a real niche for rarepairs in this fandom until I found your work. Thank you so much. 
> 
> Hey, you, LURKERS! Go read any and all the memorde fic, and you will be slain over and over.

**Author's Note:**

> Though it will crop up later in the story, for reference, Akaashi's maternal grandmother is Italian, while his maternal grandfather is Japanese. They were married in 1965 after meeting in a restaurant in Tokyo. Alessandra didn't know enough Japanese or English to order her lunch while on holiday, and Nori, the guy behind her in line, helped her the best he could. They sat and ate together and were married less than a year later.
> 
> This concept first appeared in my AkaKage fic Different Strokes, with Akaashi having partial Italian lineage and totes the chops to pull off wearing a toga. And the boy's indefatigable HIPS!


End file.
